


I will not remember light

by sherlocks_skeletal_warlock



Category: Steam Powered Giraffe
Genre: Angst, Character Death, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Grave-side chats, Robot family feels
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-19
Updated: 2018-03-19
Packaged: 2019-04-04 16:40:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,153
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14024364
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sherlocks_skeletal_warlock/pseuds/sherlocks_skeletal_warlock
Summary: 'Rabbit often went down to the cemetery. She went weekly, to talk to her Pappy.'The Walter cemetery was a place of emotional turmoil, there was no mistaking that. So many memories, so many losses...And Rabbit blamed herself for some of them.





	I will not remember light

**Author's Note:**

> My second SPG fic! Apparently, I'm incapable of writing things that aren't sad, but this has nice robot family interactions.

Rabbit often went down to the cemetery. She went weekly, to talk to her Pappy.

But she wasn't the only one who did.

The Jon visited occasionally, sat babbling at Colonel Walter’s grave whilst oily tears streamed down his face whenever life got a bit too much for him.

Hatchworth went down quietly, at least once a month and just sat, unspeaking, watching the ducks in the nearby pond.

The Spine went commonly now. He didn't used to, used to pretend it didn’t bother him, used to pretend that he never spoke to them. But now, he would go down every other week and wander through the graves, carefully maintaining them.

* * *

 

Today, Rabbit was alone. She had spoken to Pappy but there was something else weighing on her mind. She paused at the grave for Peter Walter the Fourth. There was no body buried there; he had never come home from space. 

And that was her fault.

It was her core that had caused the rip through the universe which ultimately led to his death.

It was her core that had killed Two and Professor Hottie instantly and Three slowly.

She drew an unnecessary breath and bent down to the grave. There was a bunch of white and purple flowers, which must have been left by The Spine. He was the only one who ever stopped at this grave.

“I’m s-s-sorry, P-P-P-Peter Four. It, it was my fault. Your d-d-death was my f-f-fault.” There was oil pouring down her faceplates already, dripping on to the grass below her copper knees. “I am s-s-so sorry. I sh-sh-should have been stronger, shouldn’t have l-let it happen.” With one trembling copper hand, she gently rearranged the flowers on the grave. She fell silent for a long moment, tears still pouring down her face. She wanted to speak, wanted to explain her crushing grief. It had been plaguing her recently, due to vivid nightmares but she hadn't spoken to anyone about it. “I-I...” Her voice-box caught roughly and there was the violent sound of grinding gears.

Rabbit was so caught up that she didn't hear the heavy footsteps behind her until someone leant a hand on her shoulder. She startled and turned to look into the bright green photoreceptors of her twin. The Spine did not speak; he simply gave a soft sigh, a comforting one. Rabbit moved to scrub the oil off her faceplate but her brother caught her hand carefully in his own. He locked their cold metal fingers together and knelt beside her, uncaring of the fact that it would dirty his crisp black trousers. 

“He would never have blamed you. Nor would Two, Three or Professor Hottie.” Rabbit didn’t speak, allowing herself to lean into his touch, wallowing in her grief.

“B-B-but they should. It-it-”

“No.” The Spine’s voice brooked no arguments. “What happened in 1950 wasn’t your fault. Nor were any of its aftereffects.” There was a long silence between the two automatons. Rabbit couldn’t think of anything to say to him. A moment later, The Spine fixed his own optics on the grave and spoke,

“Hello, Peter Four. Rabbit is with me. She still blames herself for everything that happened.” Rabbit sniffled softly. “But we both know she shouldn't.” Silence fell once more but Rabbit was leaning closer to The Spine this time. He paused to wrap an arm around her. “Nobody blames you.”

“Are you the only one who v-v-visits him?”

 “I think The Jon stops at the grave every now and again. But I always leave flowers.”

“I-I-I should visit them m-m-more. I just, I c-c-can’t...” The Spine gently rubbed her shoulder.

“I know. It can be hard, but you shouldn’t feel guilty for not visiting. They would understand. You know that they would.” Rabbit heaved a sigh of steam, giving a clanking shrug.

“I w-w-wish... I j-just w-w-wish that I could.” The Spine gave a sigh of his own but didn't speak again for a long moment. Then, he rubbed Rabbit's back.

“We should feed the ducks.” As he stood, he held out a metal hand for his sister and she took it with a small smile.

“Y-You c-c-come down here a lot now, don-don-don’t you?” The Spine shrugged, his titanium spines shifting with the movement.

“It relaxes me. However illogical that may be, it does.” They made their way to the duck pond, quietly, but the duck pond was already home to another visitor.

Hatchworth sat on the bench, his photoreceptors unfocused but he moved at the sound of the other automatons approaching. Rabbit had raised a hand to wipe her faceplates but it was clear too that Hatchworth had been crying. 

Seventy years in the vault had taken its toll on him, Rabbit knew it had. But he was still her little brother.

She released The Spine’s hand and came to perch beside Hatchworth. Nothing was said. The Spine came to stand at his other side.

It was Hatchworth who spoke first, slowly,

“I did not want you to see me li-ke this.”

“It is not s-s-something to be ashamed of, H-Hatchy. We all h-h-hurt.” The Spine placed his hand reassuringly on Hatchworth’s shoulder.

“The past won’t ever stop haunting us. But over time, it gets easier. And then you have bad days. We all do.” Hatchworth gave them both a small smile and nothing more was said until their peace was interrupted by the arrival of The Jon. He had bounded in as was his usual manner, but upon seeing the melancholy trio, he paused. Rabbit gave him a wan smile and The Spine straightened, moving away.

“Come along, Jon, let's go get some ice cream. Rabbit and Hatchworth will join us in a bit.”

It was times like this that Rabbit appreciated her twin brother more than anything. Hatchworth watched the other two automatons leave and then turned back to Rabbit.

“The Jon does not un-der-stand.” Rabbit huffed out a long breath of steam.

“H-he does. H-h-he just t-t-tries not to think about it. He d-deals differently.” Hatchworth nodded slowly and returned his gaze to the ducks.

“You were at Mi-ster Pe-ter Fo-ur’s gra-ve.”

“I sh-sh-should visit it m-more than I do.” Hatchworth tilted his head slowly.

“I ne-ver knew him.”

“He was a good man. C-c-clever. In-in-inspired. I th-think we sh-should write a song about him.” Hatchworth nodded.

“He wo-uld prob-ably have lik-ed that.”

“Yeah…”

They sat in silence for a long few minutes before Rabbit stood, holding out a hand to Hatchworth.

“L-let’s catch up w-w-with the others.” Hatchworth hesitated, as if to say no but he took her hand and gave a sigh of steam.

Slowly, the bots made their way back into Walter Manor and Rabbit gave a long exhale. She felt lighter than she had in days and just before she entered Walter Manor, she paused and turned back to look at the cemetery.

“Th-th-thank you, Walters. For everything.”


End file.
